Pick and Roll
by pitupaso
Summary: There are some things you just can't run away from. 30 short 100 word drabbles about Wilt, his creator, and the ups and downs in his life. Contains SPOILERS for the movie Good Wilt Hunting. [Wilt centric, no pairings, Gen]


_**A/N:**__ These are 30 100-word drabbles, using prompts taken from the 30cracks community on LiveJournal. It roughly details my ideas of what happened in-between Wilt's creation, to the events before, during and after the movie "Good Wilt Hunting". __**If you haven't yet seen the movie, please don't read any further as this contains SPOILERS.**__ I hope you like it. :)_

_As a side note, the numbers at the beginning of each prompt do NOT correspond to the reading order. (Example: "!5.First Time" is the 1st drabble, not the 15th. ) Just read them in the order that I've posted them. :)  
_

* * *

**Pick and Roll**

**15. First Time**

It took Jordan five seconds to realize the ball he was angrily bouncing had stopped bounding back into his hands. Ten more to take in the full height of the really tall… red… thing… that definitely hadn't been standing there two seconds ago.

"Hey, how're you doing? Name's Wilt."

Twenty minutes for the Imaginary Friend to chase him down, tell him to stop panicking, and that he wasn't here to squash him.

"Pretty fast for a small kid." Wilt collapsed back beside Jordan, panting. "Good stamina, too."

"Don't call me small!"

Silence. Then…

"…y'really think so?"

Thus began their friendship.

**2. Toys**

"Me, a plush toy?" Wilt repeated, twitching.

"I can't think of nothing!" Jordan wrung his hands. "If my bro knew about you, he might… pick on me more, or something."

Wilt frowned. "Like I'd – "

"Or Mam," he interrupted. "Don't think she's gonna be happy about the extra mouth. I'll share my food and everything, 'course, b-but…"

"Okay, okay." Wilt gave a resigned sigh.

Jordan grinned. "Alright. Remember: play dead 'til we get you to my room."

_x x x _

"What you got there, runt?"

"Plush toy. Got it for… um… a… quarter."

Wilt did his best to shrivel silently.

**16. Are you Sure? **

"Jordan, I'm sorry, but I really don't think – "

"Shush, Wilt, relax."

" – I honestly don't think – "

"I've been practicing, haven't I? It'll be fine."

"Well… okay," Wilt allowed, albeit reluctantly, "but I still kinda wish your brother hadn't booked the court for a full day today."

"_Shush_."

"Sorry."

_Eyes on the backboard… Aim… and shoot!_

"ARGH!"

"Ack! Wilt, I'm so sorry, are you okay? Oh man, that wasn't cool - "

"I am never," Wilt groaned, untangling his arms and rubbing his face where the ball had smacked him, "volunteering myself as a hoop and backboard ever again."

**8. Don't Cry**

There was only one time when Jordan refused to allow Wilt to see him until three hours later.

"I _wasn't_ crying," Jordan scowled, his eyes red and puffy, "and it wasn't because of my stupid brother, either."

"Ummm." Wilt couldn't lie if his life depended on it, so he switched tracks. "Let's train a little harder tomorrow. We'll practice together until you can get your hoops right, alright?"

Jordan hugged Wilt's legs. Then his shoulders started shaking.

_Words that should have come from his brother._ Wilt said nothing, but carried off the child so he could pat him to sleep.

**11. Books **

"…_and so it crashed into the earth, wiping out every living thing!"_

"Borrrrrrriiingggg."

"What? Why?"

"I don't want to hear about asteroids." Jordan began bouncing on his bed. "Tell me again about how that Chamberlaid dude won the game!"

"…Chamberlain?"

"Chammbelait," Jordan agreed. "C'mon, Wilt! Or, or how that other dude did the slam dunk, and the ball like, totally rebounded and knocked out the referee!"

"You know, most kids? They like bedtime stories. Not basketball narrations."

"I'm not 'most kids'. I'm your kid."

"And you're a handful." Wilt sighed, but obliged, smiling. "_And with only three seconds to go…" _

**3. Ice Cream**

They stay away from snacks. It's one of Wilt's regulations: "If you wanna grow up tall and strong, you've gotta eat right." Jordan loves junk food, but basketball has more importance in his life, and since Wilt's creation he's been stuffing himself with salads and fruits and frantically measuring himself every alternate day.

It's a hot, cloudless afternoon with practically no shadows and he's sweating buckets when Wilt gives him an ice cream cone.

He stares.

"…Nothing wrong with a little indulgence." Wilt flashes that trademark grin of his.

Jordan licks it, and swears that ice cream comes from heaven.

**31. Cool**

"You're amazing," Jordan says for the thousandth time, from where Wilt's giving him a piggyback.

"I'm not," is the immediate, humbled reply, "you played fantastic, too."

"Couldn't have won that match without you." Wilt feels his kid hug his neck a little tighter, sighing happily. "You're the best Imaginary Friend in the world, Wilt. And _don't_ deny it, or I'll hit ya."

Wilt turns one of his eyestalks back towards Jordan and sticks his tongue out, but doesn't rebut the praise.

"And you're the best kid in the world."

It is, overall, one of the best days in their lives.

**9. Soaking Wet**

_Rain helps the flowers to grow_, Wilt reminded himself as he ran. _It keeps the earth living. It makes pretty rainbows and it numbs you so you can't feel pain. Rain is a good thing. _

But it hurt. It hurt like it was eating him alive, his mangled arm and his messed-up eye and the painful constrictive tightness in his chest.

_Rain covers your tracks._ Wilt kept running. It was too wet to differentiate rain from tears now. _Rain hides you. And while it lasts, it makes sure Jordan will never need to see the loser you are ever again._

**25. I don't want to die yet**

When he next awoke, it wasn't raining, he wasn't lying in an alley, and his left arm was almost completely gone.

_Infection,_ a stranger beside his bed told him, _and crush trauma, muscle damage_ and other terms he couldn't comprehend. He was to rest and recuperate until he was well enough to walk around.

They placed something cool on his head, drew the curtains shut. Funny, Jordan's room didn't have curtains…

He must have mumbled something, because the lady chuckled. "Welcome, dearie, to Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends."

That was the last thing he heard before the darkness reclaimed him.

**6. Curiosity **

The tall, gangly one-armed freak lopping through the hallways swiftly became a topic that was usually brought up during breakfast hours. Because he kept to himself so often and hardly ever spoke, no one really knew who he was, or how he came to be in that condition. Theories went flying every morning.

At length one of the braver Friends made a trip to the hospital wing to poise the all-famous question: _What happened?_

But the question remained unanswered, and none of the Friends ventured to ask about it anymore. _The look in his eyes,_ they said, _was too sad._

**32. Say hello to hell**

Reality only really hit him when he tried to take a shot and actually missed.

He'd done countless one-handed shots before. But he'd never missed. Never. This felt different, strange. He was off-balanced. Missing something that would normally counter his motions.

And the hoop. He couldn't measure his distance from it, or how hard he needed to throw the ball anymore.

He couldn't even find solace in the one thing he was made to do: play basketball.

Wilt crumpled to the floor, curled up his legs and wrapped his remaining arm around himself.

"So it wasn't a nightmare," he murmured.

**10. Messenger**

Mr. Herriman snapped when Wilt missed his third meal.

"You are a fine Friend, Master Wilt, but most children prefer Friends who would give them hope and encouragement, not add to their depression!" he'd roared. "SHAPE UP!"

He came storming back again when Wilt missed the following breakfast.

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU – "

" – Sorry, Mr. H. I gotta practice." Wilt held up the basketball he was carrying and waved the rabbit a cheerful goodbye as he headed for the court. "But I'll drop by for lunch."

"…HOUSE RULES!" Herriman yelled, exasperated, but by then Wilt was long gone.

**27. Line between Love and Hate**

For the first time, Wilt found basketball frustrating.

Countless shots, countless misses. Again and again the ball would hit the rim, bounce off, or wobble indecisively on its edge before toppling off the wrong way.

Still, Wilt kept trying. Aiming and missing. Always missing, but never giving up.

Then finally – _finally_ – a single ball arced through the air, bounced off the backboard, and sailed flawlessly through the hoop. One goal out of hundreds that missed – but it was the most satisfying goal he'd made in his entire existence.

He'd missed lunch. Wilt grinned. Mr. Herriman was going to be _pissed_.

**24. Blush **

He'd never really gotten along with Eduardo or Coco until the day they'd accidentally freed the Extreme-O-Saur from its cage.

The objective was to get it back into the cage with minimal damage to property and beings before the house woke up.

The mission was failing.

"I'll distract it! You two get help!" Wilt yelled.

Ed had protectively herded him away from the monster and back towards the house.

"You es already lost one arm, dummy, I no letting you lose the other! Go!"

Then he and Coco resumed Wilt's job of running in circles and screaming.

"…brilliant," Wilt said.

**1. Transform **

"Madame?"

"Yes, Bunny?"

"Pardon my saying this, but… Master Wilt seems… different."

"Hmm?"

"That is to say, er, his behavior seems to have taken a turn for… the better."

"But of _course_, Bunny. He's living in my house."

"…that aside, Madame…"

"Surely you didn't think Wilt was always the way we first found him?"

"I, er…"

"You're looking at the _true_ Wilt now, Bunny. This charming, loyal, pleasant young fellow. Not the one that was sagging all over the floorboards and growing mold in a corner."

"…growing… mold?"

"Magnificent, isn't it? Such a wonderful fellow."

"…Yes, Madame. Indeed he is."

**23. Roses**

His roommates were nice, considerate people, but this…

"Ed. I'm a _guy_," Wilt said blankly.

"But they're pretty flowers," Ed insisted.

"Co co coco," Coco agreed.

"And you," he turned on her, "I'm sorry, but… you expect me to wear _this_?"

She coco-ed something fairly lengthy and testy at him. Wilt gave in.

He came to Christmas dinner that night wearing a rose-adorned, overly-flamboyant pink-and-purple pullover that made everyone except Coco and Ed choke on their pudding and almost die from laughter.

_Well, it_ is _keeping me warm,_ Wilt reasoned with himself, and tried not to drown in his stew.

**28. No genius but full of idiots**

It's been ages since he's seen a kid like this. The things Bloo says and does to Mac are unbelievable; Wilt is personally surprised Mac has never once considered disowning him before where hundreds of other kids would have.

Then again he supposes that's the nature of their relationship. It's wonderful and frightening to watch: they could be best pals in a minute, and bitter enemies in the next. But at the end of it all both would always come back to each other, everything forgiven and begun anew.

He wonders if Jordan has forgiven him. Doesn't dare to hope.

**20. Violence**

"Bloo?"

"Yeah?"

"I really think you ought to go down there and say – "

"Whatever for?"

"Because you made him angry."

"Wilt? Pssh. Wilt is the sweet, gentle, tree-hugging-iest sap of us all. Him? _Angry?_"

Mac pointed to where Wilt was furiously sinking hoops. The backboard was denting with every throw made against it, the hoop was rattling continuously, and the ball was moving so fast it was practically invisible.

"Mac, he's playing basketball. He does that evvvvvvvverydaaaaaaay."

"At the _speed of light?_" Mac glared.

"…argh, _fine!_" Bloo turned towards the court, scowling. "I'M SORRY I CALLED YOU NAMES, BEANPOLE!"

**12. You think too much**

It's unconscious, but sometimes he finds himself comparing. The way Ed tugs on his hand when he wants attention, how Coco always listens; how Mac smiles and the way Bloo gets when he's dead-set serious on achieving something.

He remembers tucking Jordan in, reading him stories, playing with him, teaching him. It's the same laughter, the same spirit, even though it's coming from different voices, different faces, different hearts.

They're all little pieces of something he had from long ago. Bloo's hollering breaks into his thoughts and Wilt joins in the on-going pillow fight with a laugh of his own.

**29. Fire; Water; Earth; Metal; Wood**

Bloo was like fire: destructive, vexing, wild; yet reliable when tamed.

Mac was like earth: stable, dependable, practical; what they fell back on.

Ed was like water: tranquil and timid; until provoked.

Coco was like wood: buoyant and supportive – until she got burnt.

And Wilt was like metal: dented, but tough enough to stay in one piece.

_They make an odd group,_ Frankie mused, watching as the group – a blob, a bird, a monster, a pole and an eight-year-old kid – played Frisbee, their joyous laughter carrying across the house, _but I guess it's their differences that make them strong together._

**35. Haha... **

He hasn't laughed this much in years. The others are falling all over the place as well, clutching their sides; Coco's doing a ferocious air paddle with her legs that only makes him laugh harder – oh, cripes, cramp, _cramp!_ – and Ed's shaking so hard he's actually shedding. Mac screams in helpless mirth.

Bloo is relentless, and he delivers another overly-dramatic, painful line, eyes crossed, pulling the most hideous faces ever. He looks like the stupidest thing on earth.

Wilt rolls across the floor to collectively convulse with the others. Too much of a good thing couldn't be all that bad.

**22. Once upon a time... **

A first year runt against fifteen giant-sized third years, and they'd sneered about his height, sniggered at the oversized red-white-and-blue sweatband doubled up around his wrist. Even the captain told him to leave the tryouts.

He'd asked to prove himself through a one-on-one. Five minutes into the game, the score read 19 – 0.

Nobody laughed so much after that.

He always told the truth when it came to questions about his skill. "My Imaginary Friend taught me basketball," he would say, even after he'd grown into his thirties. He wished Wilt could see him now. He'd have been so proud.

**30. Cracks **

He could have been his twin. Wilt rubbed his eye, blinked, rubbed some more. Knelt down so he could see the boy properly, make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"I'm sorry. W-What did you say your name was again?"

"Um. Harry?"

_Not Jordan._ He closed his eyes. Tried to remember how to breathe. _Not Jordan. Stupid, Jordan wouldn't be a kid by now anymore, anyway…_

"Well. Nice to meet you, Harry! My name's Wilt!" He stood up, and if he was lucky the family standing behind him wouldn't notice his legs shaking ever so slightly. "Let's begin the tour, shall we?"

**21. Lost Memories  
**

At some point, Wilt had decided to "stop looking back" and to march through the future with his head held high. It didn't matter that he was broken; he was certain the day would come when a kid would willingly adopt him for what he was.

Still, he couldn't avoid the Creator-Creation reunion that came every five years, a reminder that screamed, "Don't you DARE forget what happened before!"

Then he realized there was no way he could move forward if he kept running away from the past.

_It ends tonight._ Wilt narrowed his good eye, and made to leave.

**14. Before you say goodbye**

Bloo waking up had not been part of his plan. He'd wanted a silent departure, with minimal fuss and detection. Then again, he figured he could at least give a hint to someone in case they worried, because he didn't want anyone worrying over him.

So he told Bloo he was going somewhere. For the first time since he'd came to Foster's, he spilt a teeny tiny bit of the secret past he'd kept welled up inside for so long. It wasn't much. It wasn't everything. But it was something, and he left before Bloo could question him any further.

**33. Upside down**

He hadn't expected the strange mix of Friends and humans to show up and ask for someone he hadn't seen for over thirty years. Found it nearly impossible to believe that Wilt was actually looking for him, until he realized they were only hazarding a guess at who Wilt was looking for.

Then he realized, and his stomach twisted. The strangers were all in his plane and flying back to his hometown in less than ten minutes.

Larry had already taken Wilt's arm and eye. He wasn't taking anything else. Jordan fidgeted anxiously and willed the plane to go faster.

**19. War **

He knows he's losing. He doesn't have to look at Larry's sneering face to know how many points he's behind by; doesn't need to hear the crowd scream tips he's going to ignore anyway.

He hurts everywhere. Already his legs are trembling from the strain, his lungs are aching and his stump is on fire.

Stats screams something he doesn't make out, but he sees Larry charging towards the basket and he knows this is it.

Wilt puts himself where he knows he's going to die.

_I cannot lose,_ he reminds himself as the shadows loom nearer, _not this time._

**4. I can never be angry at you**

He feels like exploding. There's shock and joy and fear and sadness – and pride, because this is his little kid, right here, all grown up into a _big_ boy – and self-loathing, because he's failed in front of his creator for the second time.

He's half-afraid to ask but Jordan doesn't waver, doesn't stop smiling as he holds up that same wristband Wilt lost so many years ago.

His good eye hurts from straining to hold in the tears.

When they hug, Wilt feels a thousand tons lighter and his bruises don't hurt so much anymore.

And his heart is singing.

**18. Photograph **

"_This_ is my Imaginary Friend."

His teammates gathered around the strip of photos that was being passed around. Several eyebrows rose.

"Why's he upside-down in this one?"

Jordan shrugged. "I had to get his face in somehow."

"Hey, look at this. He's givin' Michaels a noogie!"

"I _told_ him I was too old for that…"

"What's this one, a 'Show Off Your Converse Shoes' shot?"

"Ah… we slipped."

"…dude, you're thirty-something, and you STILL make faces for the camera?"

"What? I've got an inner kid who refuses to grow up."

Jordan blew them a raspberry. His teammates shook their heads.

**5. Love**

Life at Foster's continues as usual: the duties, the adoptions, the rules; the trouble Bloo gets them into, the bickering, the laughs at the end of the day.

He keeps in contact with Jordan: calling after his matches, sending presents through the mail. When Jordan's free enough, he even visits Foster's to play a few games with Wilt, and it's something they both look forward to every time.

He doesn't know when he'll finally get adopted by a new family. But life as it is, with his current family, is all that Wilt could ever wish for.

And it's perfect.

_end_


End file.
